AHaunting I Will Go
by that is secret
Summary: Sequel to "My Lover, My Killer." Draco haunts Harry; D/H in a weird, angsty way.


A/N: Sequel to "My Lover, My Killer." Yes, I know, sequels are usually bad news. Well, this probably is. But I couldn't help it, I left off at a cliffhanger and it had to be explored! ^_^ I think Draco might possibly be a little less OOC. Possibly. D/H, in a strange way.  
  
  
  
It was surprisingly easy. All I did was chant it:  
  
"You can run, but you'll never be free, no you'll never be free of me. I'll live on forever in your memory."  
  
I think it was from a poem. However, it worked fine as a spell, and was rather appropriate for my purpose. Besides, it was the only thing I could think of at the time.  
  
I'm haunting you now; how do you like it?  
  
A foolish decision on my part, really. You'll die, and if my questions aren't answered I'll be left alone with no one to haunt anymore. Perhaps I'll take up residence somewhere and routinely scare the living daylights out of young children. Hogwarts would be ideal, except for the damn memories. I wouldn't be able to live there without being constantly reminded of you.  
  
Whatever I do. . . this will be worth it. I need to know.  
  
Did you really love me, Harry Potter?  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Harry woke up with a scream.  
  
He rubbed his sweaty hands through his hair. He'd just seen Draco in his dream, paler than ever and see-through. A ghost.  
  
He leaned over to grab his glasses.  
  
"AIEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!"  
  
Draco sat by the side of his bed, just like in his dream.  
  
"Dra-!" Harry started to yell his name, but was cut off when Draco's ice- cold finger pressed against his lips.  
  
"No need to get all bothered, love."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ha! You should see the look on your face! A tad surprised, I'd say.  
  
Like you'd seen a ghost.  
  
Oh, I crack myself up sometimes. . .  
  
"What - are - why - how come your hand doesn't pass through me?"  
  
I grin at you. "Easy. I came back for the express purpose of haunting you. What would be the use if I couldn't touch you?"  
  
You shiver. Lips turning blue, are they? I remove my finger from your lip and let it trace the line of your jaw, down your neck to rest inside your robes on your collarbone. You shiver again, and this time it's not just from the cold. . . is it?  
  
"Why?" Your voice is very, very small. Afraid.  
  
Oh, you mustn't be afraid. If you ever knew me at all, you'd know that I'd never want to hurt you. Then again, you killed me, so I oughtn't say anything about it. "Because I had unfinished business, that's why."  
  
My voice is like a whisper; low and quiet and breathy. I like it. I wish I had this voice when I was alive. It's much darker, scarier, sexier. Purr. I make a very sensual ghost, I must admit.  
  
"Unfinished. . ." Your eyes open wide. You must realize now that my business has to do with you. Maybe you think I'm a poltergeist? Well, I fully intend to cause you a little trouble, but that's not all I came back for.  
  
I came back for an answer.  
  
"Yes, Harry, unfinished business. Now go back to sleep and I'll talk to you in the morning."  
  
You give me a look. "How the hell am I supposed to sleep?"  
  
"Either that or I creep into bed with you. And as you must know by now, ghosts are very, very cold."  
  
Another look from you. I pick up the blanket and begin to get underneath it.  
  
"Never mind, I'll sleep. I don't need to freeze." You flop over and bury your face in the pillow. I just sit there and smirk at you.  
  
It hurts though, that you don't want me in bed with you.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I like this ghost business. The best part, or at least a very good part, is the fact that I can be invisible whenever I want to. Useful trait, especially for times like right now, when I'm watching you shower and you have no idea.  
  
Mmm. I still love your body. Strong and lean and smooth. I'd reach out and touch your shoulder from my vantage point up here on the shower rod, but that would give me away.  
  
I'll just go for stroking that unruly black mop that you call hair.  
  
You shiver a bit when I touch you - I guess I accidentally brushed against your scalp. This is one thing I don't like about being a ghost: being cold. Why would you even want me to touch you, if it makes you icy? And I don't want to do anything like that against your will.  
  
I was cold during life, but that was in my heart. It's ironic that now my heart is warmed up, my body - well, my shape/form/what-have-you - is so chilly. As inside I've tried to become someone that you could love, outside I've become something that no one would even want to brush against.  
  
Maybe I don't like this ghost business so much after all. Maybe I should have just died, and waited for you in heaven. There is a heaven, right? But of course, this is assuming I would have gone there. . . and I'm not so sure about that. I've done some things that would definitely put me in hell.  
  
But hey, you committed murder, so you'd be down there with me!  
  
Oh, I fucked up. If you don't answer me, then I'm stuck without you forever. If you do answer me, you will have either made this all worthwhile, or you will have broken what little of my heart is left.  
  
I'm a fool. I should have thought more before I chanted that spell. I should have gotten over my hopes. My hopes that you actually cared about me, that you weren't using me the whole time. Because that's all they were: hopes. You didn't love me. How could you? I was what you fought against. I should have figured that out from the beginning: Draco Malfoy was the last person you would want.  
  
But Draco Malfoy is a love-sick fool. And he wasn't going to rest until he knew whether his beloved felt the same way about him.  
  
I guess I should just pass on now, and not bother. I know what the answer will be anyways.  
  
No.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Now you're toweling yourself off. Seven hells, are you beautiful. . .  
  
No, Draco, don't think that. Don't think about how perfect his body is, or about the look he sometimes got in his eyes, or about the way his hair would look against your skin when he fell asleep with his head on your chest. Don't think about that. You'll just hurt yourself again.  
  
Somehow I understand how Moaning Myrtle felt more and more.  
  
I become visible again, and set myself down right in front of you.  
  
"Business time, Harry." I didn't mean for my voice to sound that sharp, but it came out like knives. Like my old sneer, mixed with a bit of the hurt you've caused me.  
  
Your head snaps up and you hurriedly wrap the towel around your waist. I step in closer to you, my face about six inches from yours.  
  
"I have a question to ask you."  
  
You gulp.  
  
"A simple question, Harry. Answer truthfully and my soul can pass on. Otherwise I follow you until you die, and maybe beyond."  
  
Your gulp is bigger now.  
  
"What is it, Draco?" Still frightened, are you? Not nearly as terrified as I am at this moment.  
  
I lean in even farther. If I wanted to, I could kiss you quicker than you could say Quidditch.  
  
Ah, Quidditch. More memories. Damn you. Damn myself. . .  
  
"Did you ever love me?"  
  
Oh dear, did that hurt. I sound a bit pleading, I know, in fact I sound like I'm going to cry. The very words hurt my tongue, scrape over it and rip it and make it bleed.  
  
You turn your head and look away. I grab your chin, and pull your face back in line. I look into your eyes, and the answer is there. It is there, in those emeralds that I used to stare in to watch the light pass over and through them. Those beautiful eyes of yours tell me the truth I wanted to know. The one that I didn't want to know.  
  
I feel the tears start to roll down my cheeks. I was right, Harry, I was right. I was just a pawn in your game. Something to throw away when you were finished. You seduced me so you could bend me to your own purposes. I was never your love.  
  
Maybe you cared, maybe a bit. Maybe I was just a passing fancy. But I think that I was just a means to an end for you. Nothing more. It's hard to believe such a thing of the great Harry Potter, one of the greatest of the good wizards, isn't it? What would the world say if I told them?  
  
They'd probably congratulate you on torturing Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Good-bye," I say softly. I turn and can feel myself start to dematerialize. I got what I came for. I hope that there is neither heaven nor hell; nothing in the great beyond but a great nothing.  
  
I wish I'd never gone a-haunting.  
  
  
  
A/N: So, do you think Harry would do that to Draco? 


End file.
